Compromises
by BAFan
Summary: Ever wonder what might have happened if things had gone a little differently in Edward's bedroom during "Compromise"?


**COMPROMISES**

**DISCLAIMER: The **_**Twilight**_** books belong to Stephenie Meyer; Little, Brown and Company; and Summit. Not me, sigh.**

**A/N: Okay, I give up. I've been working on this one for much too long, trying to tweak it a bit more, but I don't want to rewrite the darn thing – I just want to make it a little . . . **_**more**_** than it was. So be warned, quite a bit of the original text remains.**

**This is a reworking of the chapter "Compromise" in **_**Eclipse.**_

"_For this one night, could we try to forget everything besides just you and me?" he'd pleaded, unleashing the full force of his eyes on me. "It seems as though we never get enough time like that. I need to be with you, just you."_

Since I felt exactly the same, this was not a hard request to agree to, though I knew that forgetting my fears about the upcoming battle with the newborns would be much easier said than done. But other matters were on my mind now, knowing that we had this night to be alone, and that would help.

Some things had changed, changes that occupied the greater portion of my attention, and because of that preoccupation I was silent during the drive to the Cullen house. Sitting next to me, Edward was silent too, though I had no idea why. His fingers played with the ends of my hair, and I could feel his gaze on me throughout the entire trip. For once, he made no complaint about the slow pace of my truck.

It was after dark when we reached the house, but the meadow was bright in the light shining from every window.

As soon as I cut the engine he was at my door, opening it for me. He lifted me from the cab with one arm, slinging my bag out of the truck bed and over his shoulder with the other. To my surprise, his lips immediately found mine as I heard him kick the truck's door shut behind me.

Without breaking the kiss, he swung me up so that I was cradled in his arms and carried me into the house.

Was the front door already open? I didn't know. We were inside, though, and I was dizzy. I had to remind myself to breathe.

This kissing did not frighten me. It wasn't like before, when I could feel the fear and panic leaking through his control. His lips were not anxious but enthusiastic now – he seemed as thrilled as I was that we had tonight to concentrate on being together. He continued to kiss me for several minutes, standing there in the entry; he seemed less guarded than usual, his mouth cold and urgent on mine.

Okay, this was different – but also nice. Very, very nice. I began to feel cautiously optimistic. Perhaps getting what I wanted would not be as difficult as I expected it to be.

No, of course it was going to be just exactly that difficult.

With a low chuckle, he pulled me away, holding me at arm's length. "Welcome home," he said, his eyes liquid and warm.

"That sounds good," I said, breathless.

He set me gently on my feet. I wrapped both my arms around him, refusing to allow any space between us. I was ready now; ready to join his world and his family, and to take my place beside him as an equal partner, like Alice and Jasper. I'd realized this during that long night when I rested against a furry Jacob and stared at the moon, while around us vampires and werewolves practiced for the impending battle.

Now all I needed was to figure out how to tell Edward about the other decision I'd made that night - about what I wanted, from him.

"I have something for you," he said, his tone conversational.

"Oh?" I wrenched my thoughts back to the moment.

"Your hand-me-down, remember? You said that was allowable."

"Oh, that's right. I guess I did say that."

He chuckled at my reluctance.

"It's up in my room. Shall I go get it?"

His bedroom? I tried to control the leap of my heart. "Sure," I agreed, feeling quite devious as I wound my fingers through his. "Let's go."

He must have been eager to give me my non-present, because human velocity wasn't fast enough for him. He scooped me up again and nearly flew up the stairs to his room. He set me down at the door, and darted into his closet.

He was back before I had time to take even one step, but I had my own agenda, so I ignored him and went over to the huge gold bed, plopping down on the edge and then sliding to the center. I curled up in a ball, my arms wrapped around my knees.

"Okay," I grumbled. Now that I was where I wanted to be, I could afford a little reluctance. "Let me have it."

Edward laughed. He climbed onto the bed to sit next to me, and my heart thumped unevenly. Hopefully he would write that off as some reaction to him giving me presents.

"A hand-me-down," he reminded me sternly. He pulled my left wrist away from my leg, and touched the silver bracelet Jacob had given me, for just a moment. Then he gave me my arm back.

I examined it cautiously. On the opposite side of the chain from Jacob's carved wolf, there now hung a brilliant heart-shaped crystal. It was cut in a million facets, so that even in the subdued light shining from the lamp, it sparkled. I inhaled in a low gasp; it was beautiful.

"It was my mother's." He shrugged deprecatingly. "I inherited quite a few baubles like this. I've given some to Esme and Alice both, so, clearly, this is not a big deal in any way."

I smiled ruefully at his assurance. If he still didn't understand my dislike of receiving gifts from him, at least he respected my feelings about it.

"But I thought it was a good representation," he continued. "It's hard and cold." He laughed. "And it throws rainbows in the sunlight."

"You forgot the most important similarity," I murmured. "It's beautiful." Almost as beautiful as he was.

"My heart is just as silent," he mused. "And it, too, is yours."

I twisted my wrist so the heart would glimmer. "Thank you. For both."

"No, thank _you._ It's a pleasant surprise to have you accept a gift so easily. Good practice for you, too." He grinned, flashing his teeth.

I studied his face; his eyes were soft and warm with happiness, his smile radiant – with just a touch of relief. My conscience gave a twinge.

"Am I that bad?" I asked wryly.

He touched my face with one hand and rested his forehead on mine. "It's true you're not as eager as most girls are to get presents, but that's part of what makes you unique."

As usual, my breathing sped up at his closeness. "That remark sounded a little sexist."

"Probably," he allowed with a rueful smile. "I am, after all, a product of my time, in many ways. Can you forgive me?" He placed a light kiss on the tip of my nose.

"I don't know." I pretended to consider the matter. Edward continued to plant soft, gentle kisses over my face, and my heart kicked up a notch. "Well . . . maybe you could persuade me."

His lips met mine and we kissed for a long, glorious moment. It was Edward, of course, who ended the kiss, long before I was ready to stop. I gathered my resolve and leaned into him, cuddling into his side. He wrapped his arms around me to pull me closer.

It seemed like a good place to start. I took a deep breath. "Can we discuss something? I'd appreciate it if you could _begin_ by being open-minded."

He hesitated for a moment. "I'll give it my best effort," he agreed, cautious now.

"I'm not breaking the rules here," I promised. "This is strictly about you and me." I cleared my throat. "So . . . I was impressed by how well we were able to compromise the other night. I was thinking I would like to apply the same principle to a different situation." I wondered why I was being so formal. Must be the nerves.

"What would you like to negotiate?" he asked.

I couldn't look at him, but I could hear the smile in his voice. I struggled, trying to find exactly the right words to open with.

"Listen to your heart fly," he murmured. "It's fluttering like a hummingbird's wings. Are you all right?"

I swallowed. "I'm great."

"Please go on then," he encouraged.

"Well, I guess, first, I wanted to talk to you about that whole ridiculous marriage condition thing."

"It's only ridiculous to you," he said, quietly. "What about it?"

"I was wondering . . . is _that_ open to negotiation?" I risked an upward glance at his face. There had been something in his voice – something . . . pained? As usual, I could read nothing in his expression.

Edward frowned, serious now. "I've already made the largest concession by far – against my better judgment, I've agreed to take your life away. And that ought to entitle me to a few compromises on your part."

"No." I shook my head, focused on keeping _my_ face composed. "That part's a done deal. We're not discussing my . . . renovations right now. I want to hammer out some other details."

He looked down at me suspiciously. "Which details do you mean, exactly?"

I hesitated. "Let's clarify your prerequisites first."

"You know what I want."

"_Matrimony."_ I made it sound like a dirty word.

"Yes." He smiled a wide smile. "To start with."

The shock spoiled my carefully composed expression. "There's more?" My voice went up.

"Well," he said, and his face was calculating. "If you're my wife, then what's mine is yours . . . like tuition money. So there would be no problem with Dartmouth."

I rolled my eyes. "Anything else - while you're already being absurd?"

"I wouldn't mind some _time."_

"No. No time. That's a deal breaker right there."

He sighed longingly. "Just a year or two?"

I shook my head, my lips set in a stubborn line. "Move along to the next one."

"That's it. Unless you'd like to talk cars . . ."

He chuckled when I grimaced, then took my hand and began playing with my fingers. "I didn't realize there was anything else you wanted besides being transformed into a monster yourself. I'm extremely curious."

His voice was low and soft. The slight edge would have been hard to detect if I hadn't known it so well.

I paused, staring at his hand on mine. All that thinking and worrying, and I still didn't know how to begin. I felt his eyes watching me and I was afraid to look up. The blood began to burn in my face.

His cool fingers brushed my cheek. "You're blushing?" he asked in surprise. I kept my eyes down. "Please, Bella, the suspense is painful."

I bit my lip.

"Bella." His tone reproached me now, reminded me that it was hard for him when I kept my thoughts to myself.

"Well, I'm a little worried . . . about after," I admitted, finally looking at him.

I felt his body tense, but his voice was gentle and velvet. "What has you worried?"

"All of you just seem so convinced that the only thing I'm going to be interested in, afterward, is slaughtering everyone in town," I confessed, while he winced at my choice of words. "And I'm afraid I'll be so preoccupied with the mayhem that I won't be _me_ anymore . . . and that I won't . . . I won't _want_ you the same way I do now."

"Bella, that part doesn't last forever," he assured me.

He was missing the point. Of course. Nothing about this would be easy, it seemed.

"Edward," I said, nervous, staring hard at a freckle on my wrist. "There's something I want to do before I'm not human anymore."

He waited for me to continue. I didn't. I couldn't. My face was all hot and I kept swallowing nervously.

"Whatever you want," he encouraged, anxious and completely clueless.

"Do you promise?" I muttered, knowing that this attempt to trap him with his words was futile, but unable to resist.

"Yes," he said. I looked up to see that his eyes were earnest and confused. "Tell me what you want, and you can have it."

I couldn't believe how awkward and idiotic I felt. I was too innocent and inexperienced. I didn't have the faintest idea how to be seductive; I would just have to settle for flushed and self-conscious.

"You," I mumbled almost incoherently.

"I'm yours." He smiled, still oblivious, trying to hold my gaze as I looked away again.

I took a deep breath and shifted forward so that I was kneeling on the bed. Then I slipped my arms around his neck and kissed him.

He kissed me back, bewildered but willing. His lips were gentle against mine, and I could tell his mind was elsewhere – trying to figure out what was on _my_ mind. I decided he needed a hint.

I twined my fingers in his hair and slowly increased the pressure of my mouth. An eternity seemed to pass – probably no more than ten seconds, actually – and I began to despair that I would ever get my meaning across. And then, suddenly, Edward was _there,_ with me, finally giving his full attention to the kiss. That was encouraging.

His long legs were stretched out in front of him. Greatly daring, I moved to straddle them. Okay . . . maybe it wasn't all that daring, since he didn't seem to notice. What was I doing wrong? Maybe he just needed a _stronger_ hint. I pulled away from his lips – pretty much a first, for me – and softly kissed him on his neck. I'd never done that before, either.

The slight sound he made – almost a gasp - told me I'd startled him, but before he could say anything I returned my lips to his. Quickly I unlocked my arms from around his neck. My fingers slid down his neck to the collar of his shirt. The trembling didn't help as I hurried to undo the buttons before he stopped me.

His lips froze, and I could almost hear the click in his head as he belatedly put together my words and my actions. He pulled away at once. "Bella, what are you – " He couldn't finish the sentence, apparently shocked beyond coherence.

I took another deep breath. "What does it look like?" I managed to free one more button before he yanked my hands away.

"We can't." He frowned. "Be reasonable, Bella."

"You promised – whatever I wanted," I reminded him without hope.

"We are not having this discussion." He glared at me while he refastened the few buttons I'd manage to open. Frustration and nerves united in a volatile mix. My teeth clamped together.

"I say we are," I growled. I reached up to the top of my blouse, where the first two buttons were already conveniently undone, and yanked with all my strength. Buttons scattered across the bed. I'd dressed for tonight with atypical care: Freshly pressed pants, nice blouse; nothing fancy, just . . . minimal. Under the blouse I wore nothing. No tank top. No bra.

Just me.

Edward froze; I'd never seen him look so stunned. "Bella, no," he whispered, his voice shaking as badly as I was now. His cold hands fastened around my arms and suddenly I was beside him again, about a foot away. He instantly curled his legs beneath him and turned to face me.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, wondering why I was staring down again, the blush returning . . . why my shoulders were hunching and my stomach felt uneasy; why there was too much moisture in my eyes; why I suddenly wanted to run from the room.

Rejection washed through me, instinctive and strong. I knew it was irrational – wasn't it? He'd told me clearly on other occasions that my safety was the only factor inhibiting our relationship. Yet I'd never opened up quite so much, made myself quite so vulnerable before – and he was, as I'd discovered last year when he left me, a very good liar. Maybe that wasn't just shock on his face. Maybe my body, with its numerous human imperfections, actually repulsed him. Maybe -

I stared down at the golden comforter that matched his eyes and tried to banish the reflex reaction that told me I was unwanted and undesirable. Instinctively I started gathering the edges of my blouse together, to hide myself.

His hands gently stopped me before I could cover myself, and then I heard him whisper, "You are even more beautiful than I imagined." I looked up in confusion.

I blushed again when I saw that he was gazing at me – well, no, to be accurate, he was staring at my breasts – with eyes that were a bright, burning gold. He drew in a long, shuddering breath and swallowed hard. In the next moment, he was off the bed, standing rigidly beside it, hands clenching. He looked away.

"Bella, love, you don't know what you're doing to me . . . how hard it is for me to resist."

"I don't want you to resist." My voice was small.

He gave a breathless chuckle. "That's rather obvious."

How much could a person blush? My face was so hot I thought it would explode, and the unruly emotions I was trying to conquer surged again, humiliation foremost among them. With awkward fingers I fumbled with my blouse, finally tying the loose ends together at the bottom, which served to cover me, more or less. This time he didn't stop me.

I slid off the bed and Edward took a step backward. He might as well have struck me. A concerned look crossed his face when I walked past him. "Where are you going?"

I didn't look at him. "To the bathroom. Don't worry, I won't attack you again."

It was lucky I knew the way there, because my eyes were blinded by tears. I locked the door behind me and turned the faucet on full force, and then looked at my reflection in the mirror. Red, blotchy face; shiny nose; teary eyes – and I now saw that in my haste to try to seduce Edward with my body, I'd torn holes in my shirt where the buttons used to be. How could anyone resist all that allurement?

The tears spilled down my cheeks; a sob welled in my throat before I could stop it. Quickly I cupped my hands beneath the faucet and noisily splashed my face. A thought came to me, and I reached over and flushed the toilet, further muffling any sounds I was making. I hoped.

A light tap sounded on the door. "Bella, are you all right?"

"Yes." I took a deep breath, and got my voice under control. "I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute."

I used the hand towel to dry my face, avoiding another look at my hideous reflection. After a quick glance down to make sure I was decent, I braced myself and opened the door.

He was hovering right outside, of course. "What's wrong?" he asked. Before I could answer, his anxious gaze sharpened; carefully, he touched a finger to the corner of my eye. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying," I mumbled. He held up his wet fingertip in mute evidence. "It's water; I washed my face."

"Bella, I can tell the difference between water and tears." His brow furrowed as he scrutinized my face for a long moment, then his expression became horrified. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

"No," I denied automatically. It wasn't really a lie; _hurt_ didn't quite cover what I was feeling.

Suddenly he was holding me, my face against his chest while his thumb stroked reassuringly along my cheek and his lips pressed kisses on my hair.

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to hurt you. You know why I have to say no," he murmured. "You know that I want you, too."

"Do you?" I gently freed myself from his embrace, and stepped away. A confused look crossed his face as his arms slowly fell to his sides.

"Of course I do." His voice turned bleak. "Doesn't everyone? I feel as though there's a line behind me, just waiting for me to make a big enough mistake. You're too desirable for your own good, Bella."

I had to laugh. I doubted that awkward, self-conscious and inept added up to _desirable_ in anyone's book. I flinched away from the memory of my reflection in the mirror. "Right. I can tell." I bit my lip to stop it from trembling.

Edward cocked his head slightly, his gaze penetrating. "What does that mean?"

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. Let's get back to the subject." I walked over to the bed and sat on it again, this time on the edge rather than in the middle.

He sighed, but followed, seating himself a careful distance away, I couldn't help but notice.

"Tell me if I have anything wrong." I tried to sound detached, not an easy matter just then. "Your demands are marriage, paying my tuition, more time, and you wouldn't mind if I had a faster vehicle." I raised my eyebrows. "Did I get everything? That's a hefty list."

"Only the first is a demand." He was still cautious. "The others are merely requests."

"And my lone, solitary little demand is – "

"Demand?" he interrupted.

"Yes, demand."

His eyes narrowed.

"Getting married is a stretch for me. I'm not giving in unless I get something in return."

He leaned over to press a kiss on my temple. "No," he murmured against my skin. "It's not possible now. Later, when you're less breakable. Be patient, love."

I tried to keep my voice firm and reasonable, so it wouldn't betray my still roiling emotions. "But that's the problem. It won't be the _same_ when I'm less breakable. I won't be the same! I don't know _who_ I'll be then."

"You'll still be Bella," he promised.

I shook my head. "If I'm so far gone that I'd want to kill Charlie – that I'd drink Jacob's blood, or Angela's, if I got the chance – how can that be true?"

"It will pass. And I doubt you'll want to drink the dog's blood." He pretended to shudder at the thought. "Even as a newborn, you'll have better taste than that."

I ignored his attempt to sidetrack me. "But that will always be what I want most, won't it?" I challenged. "Blood, blood, and more blood!"

"The fact that you are still alive is proof that that is not true," he pointed out.

"Almost ninety years later," I pointed out in turn. "What I meant was _physically_, though. Intellectually, I know I'll be able to be myself . . . after a while. But just purely physically – I will always be thirsty, more than anything else."

He didn't answer.

"So I _will_ be different," I concluded, unopposed. "Because right now, physically, there's nothing I want more than I want you. More than food or water or oxygen. Intellectually, I have my priorities in a slightly more sensible order. But physically . . ."

I lifted his hand and kissed its palm.

He took a deep breath. I was surprised that it sounded a little unsteady. "Bella, I could kill you," he whispered.

"I don't think you could."

Edward's eyes tightened. He reached behind himself, toward the headboard. There was a muffled snapping sound, and the bed quivered beneath us. He held something dark up for my curious examination. It was a metal flower, one of the roses that adorned the wrought-iron posts and canopy of his bed frame. His hand closed for a brief second, his fingers contracting gently, and then it opened again.

Without a word, he showed me the crushed, uneven lump of black metal. A half-second passed, and then the lump crumbled into black sand in his palm.

I sighed. "That's not what I meant. I already _know_ how strong you are. You didn't have to break the furniture."

"What _did_ you mean then?" he asked in a dark voice, tossing the handful of iron sand to the corner of the room. It hit the wall with a sound like rain.

His eyes were intent on my face as I struggled to explain.

"Obviously, not that you aren't physically able to hurt me, if you wanted to . . . More that, you _don't_ want to hurt me . . . so much so that I don't think you ever could."

He started shaking his head before I was done. "It might not work like that, Bella."

"_Might,"_ I repeated. "You have no more idea what you're talking about than I do."

"Exactly. Do you imagine I would ever take that kind of risk with you?"

I stared into his eyes for a long minute. There was no sign of compromise, no hint of indecision in their amber depths.

"Please," I finally whispered, hopeless. "It's all I want. Please." I closed my eyes in defeat, waiting for the quick and final crushing of my hopes.

But he didn't answer immediately. I hesitated in disbelief, stunned to hear that his breathing was uneven again. I opened my eyes, and his face was torn.

"Please?" I whispered again, my heartbeat picking up speed. My words tumbled out as I rushed to take advantage of the sudden uncertainty in his eyes. "You don't have to make me any guarantees. If it doesn't work out right, well, then that's that. Just let us _try_ . . . only try. And I'll give you what you want," I promised rashly. "I'll marry you. I'll let you pay for Dartmouth, and I won't complain about the bribe to get me in. You can even buy me a fast car if that makes you happy! Just – _please."_

His icy arms came tight around me, and his lips were at my ear; his cool breath made me shiver. "This is unbearable. So many things I've wanted to give you – and _this_ is what you decide to demand. Do you have any idea how painful it is, trying to refuse you when you plead with me this way?"

"Then don't refuse," I suggested breathlessly.

He didn't respond.

"Please," I tried again. "I know I'm asking a lot – and, and I'm being really selfish and unfair – "

"Bella, what are you talking about?" He pulled away to look at my face; his expression grew even more puzzled as I stammered and fumbled for words.

"It's just . . . I know you'll probably be so careful not to hurt me that you won't be able to . . . um, well. . . ." Crap, this was awful. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "You won't . . . _like_ it as much as I will."

"Isabella Swan." Puzzlement became incredulity. "Are you thinking that the reason I won't make love with you is because I won't _enjoy_ it?"

"No!" I quickly denied, then hesitated. "Well, not exactly."

He stared at me. "Then please tell me what, exactly, you _are_ thinking."

I made a helpless gesture. "Just that . . . well, I know you're worried about my safety and . . . and since it's obvious you don't want this as much as I do – "

"Obvious?" he interrupted.

"Edward, I don't blame you," I assured him. "I know I'm just human and breakable, and that you want to wait until I'm strong and, I hope, prettier. I understand that – "

Again he interrupted. "Stop. Please." He pressed his fingertips to his temples. "Bella, you're making my head hurt – and I haven't had a headache in more than eighty years. So many misconceptions – I don't know where to begin."

Lowering his hands, Edward gazed at me. "Okay. Setting aside the ridiculous notion that making love with you wouldn't be _enjoyable,_ you honestly think that I don't find you desirable? Is that the bottom line here?"

I couldn't look at him. "Not exactly. I know that you want me, Edward, just . . . not as much as I want you."

He cradled my face with his hands and urged my chin up until I was forced to meet his gaze. "How can you believe that?" he asked softly, his eyes pained. "After all the times we've kissed - "

"And then you pull away." It was my turn to interrupt. "Every time, you stop – so easily."

I expected him to remind me again of why his restraint was necessary, and so I was surprised when, after regarding me for a long moment, he said, "And you've interpreted that to mean that I don't feel the same _intensity_ of emotion that you do, when we kiss?"

"It's obvious that you don't." I detected more than a hint of self-pity in my tone, and cleared my throat. "But it's all right; I know it will be different later, after I've changed."

"When you're _prettier."_ Shaking his head, Edward gazed into my eyes for a long moment before once more resting his forehead against mine. "Bella. . . . How can I make you believe that when I look at you, I see the most beautiful, desirable creature I've ever beheld - that every part of me yearns for your touch - that I've wanted to make love with you almost from the moment I realized I loved you; and that it takes all my strength to stop at just a kiss? That not going beyond that is just difficult as it was for me to stop drinking your blood after James bit you?"

His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "And that the thought of hurting you is devastating."

My eyes were wet again. It was impossible to doubt him. I knew with deep certainty that every word he'd spoken was the absolute truth. Despite my human shortcomings, he _did_ want me, with the same desperate need I felt for him. I was also absolutely sure of something else.

I covered his wrists with my hands, turned my head and kissed one palm. "Edward, you won't hurt me. You can't."

"Bella . . ." He shook his head slowly, but it didn't feel like a denial as his lips moved back and forth across my face. It felt more like surrender. My heart, racing already, spluttered frantically.

Again, I took what advantage I could. When his face turned slowly toward mine, I twisted quickly in his arms until my lips reached his. His hands seized my face, and I froze, sure he was going to push me away again.

I was wrong.

His mouth was not gentle; there was a brand-new edge of conflict and desperation in the way his lips moved. I locked my arms around his neck, and, to my suddenly overheated skin, his body felt colder than ever. I trembled, but it was not from the chill.

And for once, he didn't stop kissing me. For once, I was the one who had to break away, gasping for air. Even then his lips did not leave my skin, they just moved to my throat; and as he gently pushed me down on the bed and stretched out beside me, I had to remind myself to breathe.

The thrill of victory was a strange high; it made me feel powerful. Brave. My hands weren't unsteady now; I got through with the buttons on his shirt this time easily, and caught my breath as the marble beauty of his chest was exposed. My fingers traced the perfect planes. He was too beautiful. What was the word he'd used a few minutes ago?

Unbearable – that was it. His beauty was too much to bear. . . .

He shuddered at my touch, gasped when my fingertips trailed over one hard, flat nipple. "Bella," he groaned, and pulled my mouth back to his. One of his hands still cupped my face; his other arm was tight around my waist, straining me closer to him. It made it slightly more difficult as I tried to reach the front of my blouse, but not impossible.

Cold iron fetters locked around my wrists and pulled my hands above my head, which was suddenly on a pillow at the head of the bed.

His lips were at my ear again. "Bella," he breathed, his voice uneven, "would you please, _please_ stop trying to take your clothes off?"

"Why" I asked, confused. How could we continue with our clothes on? Well, I supposed it was _possible,_ but. . . .

"Oh. Uh, do – " I felt another blush coming on. "Do you want to do that?"

Edward inhaled sharply, closing his eyes, and my heart sank. I didn't think I could handle another rejection tonight.

"That wasn't what I meant," he whispered finally, "but . . . yes." His face was taut with emotion; his eyes, molten amber. "God help me, yes, I do."

Faint tremors began to vibrate deep inside me. I had to swallow before I could respond, also in a whisper, "Then what are you waiting for?"

He closed his eyes again for a moment, then opened them. "Hold very still, Bella. Please, don't move." His right hand released my wrist and softly caressed my cheek before hesitantly moving along my throat. He paused, briefly closing his eyes once more, then very, very slowly, his fingers trailed down the center of my chest, where the ruined blouse already exposed a sliver of skin, until they encountered the knot where I'd tied the loose ends together.

His breathing uneven, he hesitated once more, analyzing every movement, each sensation, I knew, to make sure this was safe, that he was still in command of himself. It reminded me of the early days in our relationship, when he wasn't sure he could control his burning thirst when we were together. So ironic, that had always seemed to me, when I was the one who constantly succumbed to temptation, who was at the mercy of my passion.

Just like now. That faint inner vibration had grown stronger, rippling through me like an electric current. I could hardly catch my breath.

"You're trembling." His eyes flew to mine, questioning.

"Because I'm about to spontaneously combust," I managed to choke out.

I had used those same words not too long ago, when this bed was newly installed and he'd been trying to persuade me of its usefulness. Then, he'd mischievously pulled away from me. Tonight, his chiseled lips turned up slightly, but otherwise he didn't move. "That might be interesting to see."

"Edward," I whispered. _"Please!"_

With heart-stopping deliberation, he untied the knot; then, holding my eyes with his own, he drew the edges of my shirt apart. As his eyes shifted downward, the breath he took in was audible and ragged. A tremor passed over his face, and I shivered along with him as his cold fingers traced the curvature of my breast, then hovered uncertainly for a moment before lightly descending onto my nipple.

I cried out loud and shuddered, arching into his touch, while sensations I had never felt before raced through me with the force of a tsunami. My heart seemed to explode, my head swam, and the world went black.

"Bella? _Bella?"_

I became aware of Edward's voice frantically calling my name. Groggily, I opened my eyes.

"Are you all right?" He was cradling me in his arms, stroking my face and hair, his eyes wide and panicked. "What happened? Did I hurt you?"

"No," I breathed, still lightheaded. "You absolutely did not hurt me."

He hugged me closer, kissed my forehead. "But what happened? You – you cried out, and then . . . then I think you . . . you fainted."

I laughed weakly. "I think I did."

He looked stunned. "But . . . why? You mean, because of . . . surely _that_ couldn't have . . . that one touch?" How strange; I'd never heard Edward babble before.

I felt a rising flush of embarrassment. "Spontaneous combustion, remember?" Strength and my ability to think were returning now. I sat up, then pulled myself up to his level. I felt faintly ridiculous with my blouse just dangling open like that, but lacked the courage to remove it altogether. "I want to try something."

I kissed him. His response came instantly. Slowly I wound my arms around his neck and moved closer. My heated flesh pressed against the icy perfection of his chest. We broke away from the kiss with simultaneous groans, and the next minute kissed again, feverishly. I couldn't get enough of the sensation of his bare skin against mine, and he seemed to feel the same, holding me tightly.

I fell back onto the mattress, and Edward came with me. He lay above me, resting his weight on his arms, his lips moving from my mouth to my throat, again and again, until finally they continued down to my navel before trailing upward once more. The icy caress of his tongue on my breast caused another explosion of feeling, but this time I managed to stay conscious, even if I couldn't repress another embarrassingly loud, gasping cry.

Edward kept kissing me, as if unable to stop. His shirt had vanished somewhere along the way, and his pale torso shone like marble in the lamplight.

He pulled back a little, leaning on one elbow. "You are so beautiful," he whispered, taking the words out of my mouth. My eyes glazed a little when his hand trailed a path from my face down to my waist.

He was deluded, of course, but I'd never felt less like arguing, not when he was finally touching me as I'd dreamed of him doing – and not with all his glorious perfection distracting me. Slowly I ran my hands over his shoulders and arms, marveling, greedy, feeling the strength of his muscles, the quivering tension as I caressed his shoulders, his back, his chest . . . his stomach. With each touch his breathing grew more rapid, his kisses more intense.

I hesitated, unbelievably nervous, then slid my fingers downward, along the front of his khakis. As I'd expected, his hand instantly covered mine, pulling it away.

"Don't." The word was almost incomprehensible, his voice was so choked. The grip of his hand verged on painful.

"Why not?" I was breathless too. I was pretty sure that in the moment before he'd yanked my hand away, my fingertips had detected something beneath the fabric . . . something _firm._

He shook his head almost violently; his eyes were a little wild. "Not tonight. I can't – it's too much - I won't be able to control myself."

He'd given me so much tonight. I could afford to be generous. Besides, maybe I could change his mind.

"But we'll keep trying?" I murmured, placing light kisses on his flawless chest. "Practice makes perfect, you know."

He shivered as the tiny granite nub of his nipple came beneath my lips, and then he rolled away from me. "You'll be the death of me, Bella," he groaned. "Or of yourself." He showed me his hand; another metal rose, twin to the one he'd demonstrated with earlier, lay mangled in his palm. His breathing, although still ragged, began to slow.

"Whoa." I blinked. "When did you do that? I didn't hear anything."

"You were somewhat . . . distracted at the time." His crooked smile held just a hint of amusement.

I didn't care. Even though need was still a strong current within me, for now I was content just to lie in his arms as he settled us against the pillows; content with the pressure of his lips on the top of my head and with the lazy strokes of his hand along my arm. I was doing some caressing of my own, thrilled that he hadn't put his shirt back on. The planes and shadows of his long, flawless torso were endlessly fascinating to me – a little too much so, apparently.

He caught my hand. "Bella," he warned with a catch of his breath.

"Sorry," I apologized, then sighed when he disentangled from our embrace.

"Maybe we should continue this discussion elsewhere, someplace not so . . . tempting."

I watched sadly as he found his shirt, then with a resigned sigh retied my poor abused blouse, higher this time, leaving my midriff bare. "What's to discuss? Except when we'll have another chance to be alone so we can practice some more."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Oh no. No more practice. We need to plan the wedding first."

"What" I gasped. My legs gave way and I sat back down, quickly, before I fell.

"You agreed to marry me, remember? You're not going back on your word, are you?"

"Of course not, but – but what's the hurry?" Panic was rising fast. "And what do you mean, no more practice?"

Edward eyed me speculatively. I narrowed my eyes; I knew that look and it rarely boded well for my wishes. His mouth quirked as he read my expression; he was having fun. He seated himself beside me.

"I'll make a deal with you," he said, his voice honey-sweet and persuasive.

I groaned and fell backwards, threw an arm over my eyes. "Not another one!"

He ignored my dramatics. "You want us to make love while you're still human; I want us to marry. Of the two of us, who do you think is more unwilling to give the other what they want? You just promised to marry me before you do any changing, but if I give in tonight, or tomorrow, or at any time before we're married, what guarantee do I have that you won't go running off to Carlisle the next morning and ask him to turn you? I am – clearly – much less reluctant to give you what you want."

To prove his point, he nuzzled at the hollow of my throat. My heart tried to leap out of my body. "Therefore, marriage first. That's the deal – take it or leave it. "

His arms wrapped around me, and he began kissing me in a way that should be illegal. I tried to keep a clear head . . . and failed, quickly and absolutely.

"That's blackmail," I gasped when he let me breathe.

"Technically, I believe it's coercion," Edward murmured in my ear, sending shivers through me.

"Either way, it's not fair."

"No, it isn't," he agreed silkily, then kissed me again – another too-persuasive kiss. "So, are we engaged now?"

Engaged? I concealed an involuntary shudder at the notion. "I suppose that makes you happy?"

His smile was blinding. "Exceptionally so."

I glared at him, trying to ignore the way his smile made my heart react. He kept kissing me until my heart was racing and my skin was flushed.

"Aren't you happy at all?" he asked softly. I thought I saw a trace of wistfulness in his expression.

"A little bit," I admitted when I could speak, "but not about getting married."

He kissed me another time. "Do you get the feeling that everything is backward?" he laughed in my ear. "Traditionally speaking, shouldn't you be arguing my side, and I yours?"

I had to smile. "There isn't much that's traditional about you and me."

"True," he smiled back.

"Edward." I had to pause a moment when he kissed the palm of my hand. "I said I would marry you, and I will. I promise – I swear. If you want, I'll sign a contract in my own blood!"

"Not funny," he murmured against the inside of my wrist, where his lips were doing things that made it hard to remember what I was trying to say.

Using the hand that he was still kissing, I pulled his face up to where I could see his expression. "Do you really believe I would trick you like that?" Surely he knew me better than that.

"Well – " He raised an eyebrow. "You're pretty inventive when you really want something." Then all playfulness left his face. "No, I don't," he admitted. "I know you wouldn't trick me."

"Thank you. So there's really no reason to wait. We're completely alone – how often does that happen? – and you've considerately provided this very large and comfortable bed. . . ."

"After we're married," he said again.

"There's something else." I studied his face. There was a defensiveness about it, a faint hint of some secret motive he was trying to hide behind his casual manner. "Are _you_ planning to go back on your word?"

"No," he solemnly promised. "I swear to you, we _will_ try. After you marry me."

I shook my head and muttered glumly, "You make me feel like a villain in one of those old silent-film melodramas – twirling my mustache while I try to steal your virtue. Next I'll be tying you to the railroad tracks so I can have my evil way with you."

He chuckled. "It wouldn't do you any good; I'd just break free."

"I know," I said sourly, and then sighed. "Can we go back in time to about ten minutes ago? I was really enjoying myself right then."

He took me in his arms and kissed me softly. "So was I, love. Never doubt it."

"I don't, now." I smiled, thinking about that intriguing _firmness_ I'd touched so briefly. "Edward. Tell me the real reason you want to wait, since it isn't because you don't trust me." I craned my neck so I could see his face.

He was silent a moment, his expression pensive. "Bella, you know I've broken most of the human rules. I've stolen, I've lied, I've coveted - and I've killed. I've killed a lot of people."

"Only bad ones," I countered.

He shrugged. "Maybe that counts, maybe it doesn't. But you haven't killed anyone – "

"That _you_ know about," I muttered.

He smiled, but otherwise ignored the interruption. "And I'll do my best – we all will – to keep you out of temptation's way once you're changed."

"Okay, and thank you. But we weren't arguing over committing murder," I reminded him.

"No, we're discussing fornication."

My jaw dropped, but before I could respond, he went on, "I know that's an old-fashioned word – "

I rolled my eyes. "Try _antiquated!"_

"But the same principle applies – the only difference is that this is the one area in which I'm just as spotless as you are. Can't I leave one rule unbroken? My virtue is all I have left."

I was having trouble with that. "Wait. You mean you've _never_ . . . in all those years . . . you've never _been_ with anyone?"

His smile was tranquil. "Never."

"But . . . all those gorgeous vampire women out there . . . " I shook my head. "I can't believe you weren't, well, attracted by any of them."

Edward shrugged. "Maybe I was, mildly, once or twice, but never enough." He stroked my cheek, smiling a little. "I admit I used to wonder if there was something wrong with me; why I never wanted to be with any of them, was never even tempted to, really."

He chuckled. "Especially after Carlisle found Esme and I realized how strong that particular drive could be." He looked down at me with warm, soft eyes. "Now I know that I was just waiting for you, Bella."

I couldn't speak over the thickness in my throat, so I kissed him instead. We held each other close for a long moment; then I backtracked to something he'd said earlier. "Why do you think I'm so _spotless?_ I certainly covet you, and I lie all the time."

"Yes, but you're so bad at it that it doesn't really count. Nobody believes you."

"I really hope you're wrong about that," I told him, "because otherwise Charlie is about to burst through the door with a loaded gun."

Edward grinned at me. "Charlie is happier when he pretends to swallow your stories. He'd rather lie to himself than look too closely."

"But what did you ever covet?" I wondered. "You have everything."

"I coveted you." His smile darkened. "I had no right to want you – but I reached out and took you anyway. And now look what's become of you! Trying to seduce a vampire." He shook his head in mock horror.

"_Trying_ being the operative word," I muttered. Edward laughed. "But you can't covet something that's already yours. Besides, I thought it was _my_ virtue you were worried about."

"It is. If it's too late for me . . . Well, I'll be damned – no pun intended – if I'll let them keep _you_ out of whatever afterlife there may be."

"Do you know what my definition of hell is?" I pulled myself up to kiss him. "It's being someplace where you're not. Anyway, I have an easy solution to all this: let's never die, all right?"

"Sounds simple enough. Why didn't I think of that?"

He smiled at me. I huffed out a frustrated breath_._ "So that's it? You won't sleep with me until we're _married."_

"Technically, I can't ever _sleep_ with you."

My eyes were sure getting a workout tonight, from rolling so often. "Very mature, Edward."

"But, other than that detail, yes, you've got it right."

"I think you have an ulterior motive," I accused.

His eyes widened innocently. "Another one?"

"You know this will speed things up."

He tried not to smile. "There's only one thing I want to speed up – our marriage - and the rest can wait forever . . . but for that one thing, it's true, your impatient human hormones are my most powerful ally at this point."

_My_ hormones. Hmph. I traced a fingertip over his perfect lips. "I thought we'd demonstrated – "

I kissed his chin – "that your hormones – "

. . . his throat - "are just as _impatient _– "

. . . his cheek – "as mine – "

. . . trailed back down to the hollow at his collarbone – "but maybe you need more proof."

I met his lips with mine, smugly gratified when his breathing sped up. He held me closer, one hand on my head, the other roving across my back; then he buried his face in my neck, kissing along my collarbone from one side to the other, covering every inch in between before moving up the column of my throat. His hand passed from my back down to the bare skin at my waist, and then continued along my hip and leg.

Now _I _was breathing hard, my hands twining in his silky hair.

"It doesn't have to be a big production," he murmured against my lips.

"What?"

"The wedding. I don't need any fanfare."

_Wedding?_ The word snapped me out of my mood like a shock of cold water on my face. As I stared at him, Edward smirked – there was no other word for it. I groaned in defeat, and his smile widened.

"You won't have to tell anyone or make any changes," he continued. "We'll go to Vegas – you can wear old jeans and we'll go to the chapel with the drive-through window. I just want it to be official – that you belong to me and _no one else."_

"It couldn't be any more official than it already is," I protested. But his description didn't sound that bad. Only Alice would be disappointed.

"_Some_ people don't seem to think so," he muttered darkly, then smiled at me. "I suppose you don't want your ring now?"

_Ring?_ I had to swallow before I could speak. "You suppose correctly."

He laughed at my expression. "That's fine. I'll get it on your finger soon enough."

I glared at him. "You talk like you already have one."

"I do," he said, unashamed. "Ready to force upon you at the first sign of weakness.

It took me a moment to respond. "You're unbelievable."

"Do you want to see it?" he asked. His liquid topaz eyes were suddenly shining with excitement.

I managed to check my instinctive reaction, and so my "No" came out merely choked instead of shouted. Even so, I regretted it at once; his face fell ever so slightly. "Unless you really want to show it to me," I amended. I gritted my teeth together to keep my illogical terror from showing.

"That's all right," he shrugged. "It can wait."

I sighed. "Show me the damn ring, Edward."

He shook his head. "No."

I studied his expression for a long minute.

"Please?" I asked quietly, experimenting with my newly discovered weapon. I touched his face lightly with the tips of my fingers, stroked them across his lips. "Please may I see it?"

His eyes narrowed. "You are the most dangerous creature I've ever met," he muttered. But he got up and moved with unconscious grace to kneel next to the small bedside table. He was back on the bed with me in an instant, sitting beside me with one arm around my shoulder. In his other hand was a little black box. He balanced it on my left knee.

"Go ahead and look, then," he said brusquely.

It was harder than it should have been to pick up the inoffensive little box, but I knew my reluctance was hurting him, so I tried to keep my hand from shaking. The surface was smooth with black satin. I brushed my fingers over it, hesitating.

"You didn't spend a lot of money, did you? Lie to me if you did."

"I didn't spend anything," he assured me. "It's just another hand-me-down. This is the ring my father gave to my mother."

"Oh." Surprise colored my voice. I pinched the lid between my thumb and forefinger, but didn't open it.

"I suppose it's a little outdated." His tone was playfully apologetic. "Old-fashioned, just like me. I can get you something more modern – maybe from Tiffany's?"

Of course he'd know exactly how I would react to _that._ "I like old-fashioned things," I muttered, glaring at him as I lifted the lid.

Nestled into the black satin, Elizabeth Masen's ring sparkled in the dim light. The face was a long oval, set with slanting rows of glittering round stones. The band was gold – delicate and narrow. The gold made a fragile web around the diamonds. I'd never seen anything like it.

Unthinkingly, I stroked the shimmering gems. "It's so _pretty,"_ I murmured, surprised.

"Do you like it?" I could hear a trace of anxiety in his voice.

"It's beautiful." I stared at it ruefully. "What's not to like?"

He chuckled. "See if it fits."

My hand twitched, wanting to automatically clench into a fist, but I reminded myself that he wasn't going to weld it onto my finger, and deliberately relaxed my fingers. "Fine," I sighed.

I reached for the ring, but his long fingers beat me there. He took my left hand in his, and slid the ring into place on my third finger. He held my hand out, and we both examined the oval sparkling against my skin. It wasn't quite as awful as I'd feared, having it there. In fact, I had to admit that it looked . . . nice.

"A perfect fit," he said indifferently. "That's nice – saves me a trip to the jeweler."

I could hear some strong emotion burning under the casual tone of his voice, and I stared up at his face. It was there in his eyes, too, visible despite the careful nonchalance of his expression.

"You like that, don't you?" I asked, fluttering my fingers and thinking it was really too bad that I hadn't broken my _left_ hand.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Sure," he said, still casual. "It looks very nice on you."

I stared into his eyes, trying to decipher the emotion that smoldered just under the surface. He gazed back, and the casual pretense suddenly slipped away. He was glowing – his angel's face brilliant with joy and victory. He was so glorious that it knocked me breathless.

Before I could catch that breath, he was kissing me, his lips exultant. I was lightheaded when he moved his mouth to whisper in my ear – but his breathing was just as ragged as mine.

"Yes, I like it. You have _no_ idea!"

I laughed, gasping a little. "I believe you."

"Do you mind if I do something?" he murmured, his arms tightening around me.

"Anything you want," I said, instantly hopeful.

But he let me go and slid away.

"Anything but that," I complained.

He ignored me, taking my hand and pulling me off the bed too. He stood in front of me, hands on my shoulders, face serious.

"Now, I want to do this right. Please, _please_ keep in mind that you've already agreed to this, and don't ruin it for me."

"Oh, no," I gasped as he slid down onto one knee.

"Be nice," he muttered.

I took a deep breath.

"Isabella Swan?" He looked up at me through his impossibly long lashes, his golden eyes soft but, somehow, still scorching. "I promise to love you forever – every single day of forever. Will you marry me?"

There were many things I wanted to say, some of them not nice at all, and others more disgustingly gooey and romantic than he probably dreamed I was capable of. Rather than embarrass myself with either, I whispered, "Yes."

"Thank you," he said simply. He took my left hand and kissed each of my fingertips before kissing the ring that was now mine. Then he stood and gathered me in his arms and kissed me, softly.

"Thank you," he said again. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." Each "Thank you" was punctuated with light butterfly kisses across my face, until his lips met mine again; and this kiss was not soft at all, but fierce and demanding. I rose up onto my tiptoes to meet it.

I felt cool air on my chest and realized my blouse was somehow open again. With one smooth motion, Edward tugged it over my shoulders and down my arms, tossing it to the floor. In the next second, his shirt fluttered down to join it. Before I could react to any of this, he pulled me close again, and the sound he made when our skin met matched the sound coming from my own throat.

He swept me up into his arms and, almost faster than I could blink, I was lying in the middle of the bed, my head on a pillow, Edward beside me. My head swam, and it wasn't just from the speed of his action. Much bewildered, I managed to free my lips long enough to gasp, "Did you change your mind?"

"Not about making love," he murmured against my throat. I shivered as his arctic lips carefully, gently, nipped. "But that doesn't mean we can't _practice." _

"But you said – " My thoughts scattered when, in between nips, his tongue began delicately tasting my skin. His lips returned to mine and we kissed again.

"I know I said no more practice," he whispered, "but you've made so many concessions tonight, for me. I decided I could do this for you."

His hand came up from my waist to gently cover my breast. The slow, careful movements of his fingers started heat simmering inside me, while his mouth wreaked just as much havoc with his kisses.

He squeezed lightly; the simmer grew to a slow burn, centered low in my body. I ran my hands over his arms and shoulders, up into his hair, and pressed myself even closer against him. His skin seemed warmer than usual, cool rather than icy, and when I was able to focus on something other than the sensations running through me, I could swear that there was the faintest tint of color in it.

He raised his eyes from their intent scrutiny. They were a bright, almost glowing, topaz. "Bella," he whispered, lowering his eyes again, "I wish I could tell you how this makes me feel – to see you like this - to feel your warmth and your softness – _so_ soft, like silk – but I can't find the words." He bent his head and kissed the spot his hand had been caressing. His tongue touched me.

I gasped and clutched at his head. "Careful, love," he murmured, moving his face to one side, and I dimly remembered the danger posed by even a tiny scratch from his teeth. With great effort, I made my hands loosen their grip. His face returned to its former position – as did his mouth. Every touch of his lips, every sweep of his tongue, sent flames spiraling through me. My skin grew flushed as my breathing sped up.

"Edward." My voice was no more than a breathless whisper.

He raised his head to look at me. I'm sure my eyes were wild; I felt totally out of control, like I was about to explode. I needed . . . I needed . . . My lips shaped a soundless plea, and I moved restlessly, running my hands over his back.

He seemed to understand. An uncertain look crossed his face, and he hesitated; then he moved over me and gently slid between my legs, rocking slowly against me while he took my lips in another searing kiss. I whimpered as the gentle pressure stoked the fiery threads burning within me, drew them closer, tighter. I wrapped one leg around his hips

Edward's breathing came faster against my neck; the sound of it grew harsher. I felt the tension of his body, his arms and back rigid and quivering beneath my frantic hands and lips. And I felt something else. Even through the layers of clothing, his and mine, that separated us, his arousal was unmistakable. The knowledge was an incredible high. I had to touch him; I just . . . had to. I tried to worm my hand in between us.

As before, Edward stopped me before I achieved my goal. "Please, Edward," I whispered, my voice jagged. _"Please_ let me, just once. _Please."_ He shivered, with a look on his face I couldn't decipher, then closed his eyes and released my hand.

We were so tightly entwined that I had to pull away slightly. The fabric of his khakis was smooth beneath my sliding fingers. Edward was kissing my neck, and his breath hissed in my ear when I found the long, rigid shape of him through the cloth. With my fingertips I shyly explored his length. Although I had no practical knowledge of the male body, I'd picked up enough just from reading to make a pretty fair guess at what might please him, and so I flattened my hand and began gently rubbing. . . .

His entire body jerked. With a groan, Edward yanked my hand away. Before I could protest, he had pulled my legs around him again and was holding me even more tightly than before. All coherent thought fled my mind. I was too far gone to feel any embarrassment when I curved my body to meet his hips as they ground against me, again and again. All I knew was pleasure as the tight, fiery coil burning inside me flew apart and flooded me with sensation. Crying out, I convulsed, hearing Edward's hoarse, guttural groan from somewhere overhead as his back momentarily arched away from me, dimly aware of the shudders running along his entire body.

Then he was holding me again, tightly, panting, as I was. We lay like that for long, blissful minutes, while our breathing slowed. Then, with a sigh, Edward rolled onto his back, raining kisses on my hair while I sprawled across his chest.

"Are you all right?" he whispered.

I smiled, utterly content. "Aside from feeling kind of like a jellyfish, you mean?"

I could feel his smile, even though I wasn't looking at him. "Yes, aside from that. I – I didn't hurt you?"

Anxiety colored his voice. I managed to raise my head so I could see his face. "You didn't hurt me," I assured him, stroking his beautiful chest. Then I sighed ruefully. "Though I'll probably have some bruises in the morning."

His brow instantly furrowed with concern. I leaned forward and kissed him. "Edward. You know how easily I bruise."

"That's true," he admitted, his face slowly clearing.

I nestled into his shoulder and resumed my slow caresses. "Your skin feels almost . . . warm." And a good thing too; otherwise, I'd be shivering before too long.

"I'd be surprised if it wasn't," he said, with a soft laugh. His hand began lazily stroking my back. "Bella - I never intended things to go that far."

My hand stilled. "Are you sorry they did?" I was afraid to look at him.

He tipped my chin upward and kissed me. "No," he said, quietly, and looked me in the eye. "I've never been less sorry about anything."

His eyes were soft and warm, burnished gold rather than the blazing topaz they'd been a moment ago. He kissed me again, then sighed. "I need to leave for a minute."

"What? No!" I protested as he eased my head off his shoulder and sat up.

"Only for a minute," he repeated, and slid off the bed, angling slightly away from me.

"But why?" I was confused, then dismayed. "Did you hear something? Are the others coming back early?" As much as I loved the Cullens – well, most of them - I couldn't bear for our glorious, intimate night together to be interrupted.

"No, no," he assured me. "I just need to – " He hesitated and looked embarrassed; then he gave a rueful laugh. "If I were physically able to blush, I'd be doing it right now."

"Huh?" I probably looked as dimwitted as I felt.

Looking away, he sighed. "Bella, I need to change clothes."

During the moment it took for me to understand what he meant, Edward flashed out of the room. He was back before _I'd_ finished blushing - at my incredible slowness - wearing a different pair of khakis, green ones this time.

I avoided his eyes as he rejoined me. That was how I came to notice the bed frame. I peered more closely at it. Not only were the metal roses missing from the nearby post – well, I knew what had happened to _them_ - but the wrought-iron frame itself was twisted, almost snapped in two at one point. My eyebrows shot up. "What did you _do_ to this, Edward?"

He gave it a chagrined glance. "I was feeling more than a bit . . . overwhelmed . . . at the time."

"Ah." Fresh blood rose in my face, then I smirked.

Edward chuckled and rearranged the pillows behind him. He drew a blanket around me and gathered me in his arms. "It's late; you should try to sleep now, Bella."

"I don't want to sleep yet." Even if I did need to cocoon myself against his rapidly-cooling skin, at least he hadn't felt the need to put his shirt on. I couldn't get enough of looking at him, touching him. He shivered a little as I stroked his chest. "Edward."

His lips pressed against my hair. "Hmm?"

"Thank you for tonight."

I felt the puff of his laugh, cold against my scalp. "My pleasure."

I smiled smugly. "I know."

He laughed out loud. "Go to sleep, minx." He began humming my lullaby. I could feel drowsiness tugging at my eyelids, but I needed to say something first. "Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

His arms tightened around me, his long fingers stroked my face. I felt his lips on my head. "As I love you. Sleep now, my love."

THE END


End file.
